The Watson Brothers (18 page)

Pete Watson smiled as he watched Cassidy McClannahan get out of her spotlessly clean white Ford Contour. It was a familiar thing, smiling at the sight of Cassidy. Which meant he smiled a lot these days, because he saw her every day, everywhere he went. They worked together at the Sports Therapy Center and they lived in adjoining condos, thanks to the fact that Cassidy told him when one of the units became available. They left at the same time in the morning, came home at the same time each day.

It was nice. Routine. As predictable as being married—but without the chain chafing around his neck.

And no sex.

But hey, that kept it simple and easy. Besides, he could probably have sex with Cassidy if he wanted. But he didn’t. Not really.

Not bad, anyway.

The spring breeze played havoc with her super-long, too-curly brown hair, whipping it into her face until, in disgust, she dropped her grocery bag and grabbed the mass with both hands.

She was such a contradiction, so much a woman in some ways, so oblivious to her own femininity in others.

Sidling up next to her, Pete said, “You should have put it in a ponytail.”

“Bite me.”

He laughed. Her reaction to him fell into the oblivious category. She treated him like an asexual pal. Joking with him, putting him down sometimes. And she never, ever primped or prettied up for him. Nope, Cassidy didn’t want him. Still, he could get her if he wanted to.

He just didn’t want to.

Scooping up her bag, which weighed a damn ton, Pete said, “Come on, Rapunzel. I’ll help you inside.”

She eyed his bulging biceps as if she didn’t see them every day at work. But it wasn’t a look of admiration, just one of observation—the same sort of look she always gave him. Un-affected. Nonsexual.

Finally she looked away, saying, “Don’t strain anything.”

Yeah, right. She knew better than most that he was in great shape. “What the hell did you buy, anyway?” Part of their routine for Friday was stopping at the grocery store. Since their eating habits were like night and day, they separated in the store, but met up again in the parking lot. He’d only bought enough lunchmeat and bread to last him through the week, but it felt like Cassidy had bought bricks.

While she rolled up her driver’s-side window and locked her car door, she ticked off her purchases. “Baking potatoes, steak, corn on the cob, and a six-pack of pop.”

“Got a big night planned?” Pete knew she didn’t. Cassidy almost never dated. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever seeing her date. That made him stop and think.

“Not really.”

Well. That was pretty damn vague. Frowning, Pete waited to see if she’d invite him to join her. But she didn’t. She never took the initiative. If he asked, she’d smile and tell him what time to show up. But why the hell did he always have to ask? Couldn’t she just once extend the invitation? Another contradiction. They always enjoyed each other’s company, but she never deliberately sought him out.

He loped beside her as they went up the tidy walkway to her front stoop, which was right next door to his, a mere fifteen feet away.

Assuming he’d follow, she unlocked her door, pushed it open and strolled inside, kicking her sneakers off the moment she got in. Out of the wind, she released her long hair and Pete watched as it tumbled free down to the small of her back, swishing above her plump ass.

Pete shook his head. She stayed in great shape, was always clean and well dressed, but she paid zero attention to feminine details like her hair and nails. She didn’t wear makeup or perfume—not that she needed to. She always smelled great, even when sweaty. And she had a healthy, robust complexion.

Robust? Yeah, that’s how normal men should think of women. Half disgusted, half embarrassed, Pete shook his head at his odd musings.

He’d asked Cassidy once about her long hair and found out she only washed and dried it. No curlers, no trims, no highlights. He’d never known a woman who didn’t spend hours on her hair. When it got humid outside, her hair drew into long, bouncy ringlets that looked adorable.

Like Cassidy, her place was clean and comfortable but not overly decorated. It overflowed with plants and posters and throw pillows. By rote, Pete trailed her into the kitchen.

“You want some coffee or something?” She didn’t wait for him to reply, but began filling the carafe, proving how predictable he’d become. He should politely decline and head home, maybe throw her off a bit. But he didn’t.

“I can take one cup.” Pete set their groceries on the counter, pulled out a kitchen chair and sat.

With the coffee preparations complete, Cassidy set out mugs and sugar before turning away. “Be right back.”

“Where’re you going?”

“To change. It’s warm tonight.”

She disappeared around the corner into the hall leading to her bedroom. Pete knew the setup of her condo because it was the mirror image of his. Where his bedroom ran to the left of the front door, hers ran to the right. He’d never been in her bedroom, though—and she’d never been in his.

Today she’d worn loose navy blue athletic pants and sneakers with the red unisex polo shirt supplied to all employees at the Sports Therapy Center.

Pete tilted his chair onto the back legs. It dawned on him that he’d known Cassidy about eleven months now. Not that he was counting or anything, but maintaining a close platonic relationship with a woman other than his sisters-in-law for almost a year had to be some sort of personal record. Usually if he knew a woman any length of time at all, he either dated her or was merely acquainted, not friendly.

The thing he’d first noticed about Cassidy—after that abundance of super-soft, crimped hair—was her focus. They’d spoken for about an hour his first day on the job, and in that time he realized that she had it together more than anyone he knew. If you asked Cassidy where she wanted to be five years from now, she could tell you. She knew where she wanted to work, where she wanted to live. She even claimed to know the type of guy she wanted to marry one day.

In comparison, Pete didn’t even know where he wanted to be next week. Not that he intended to leave his job, his home, or Cassidy’s friendship. But after finishing school and working three different jobs before settling at the sports center, he often felt unsettled, as if he were somehow missing the big picture.

Not Cassidy. She set new goals daily and worked hard to reach them. Maybe that’s why she didn’t date—she was too busy meeting her goals. Pete frowned in thought, trying to remember if any of their male clients had ever hit on her.

No one specific came to mind, but then everyone, young and old, male and female, loved Cassidy. She laughed a lot—honest laughter, not the trumped-up, polite kind. She also had nice eyes. Sort of a wishy-washy blue-green that managed to be awesomely direct. Honest, like her laugh.

She was built well enough, of course. On the short side. A little too muscular, given all the time she spent being physical on the job, but trim and fit. She had a body guys would notice….

And why the hell was he dwelling on her body, anyway?

Pete stood up and went to her patio doors. With his hands stuck in his back pockets, palms out, he contemplated the darkening sky. Looked like another spring storm on the way. Trees swayed under the wind. Heavy gray clouds raced by. He slid the glass door open so the fragrant, moist air could come in through the screen, wafting around him, stirring his senses.

Now that he’d thought of Cassidy’s bod, he couldn’t stop thinking of it. And that was strange, because he preferred his ladies on the prissy side. He enjoyed watching a woman fuss with her hair, fret about her nails, and reapply her lipstick. It was so intrinsically female.

Dawn, the woman he’d most recently stopped dating, had done a lot of fussing. She was a corporate exec, smart, lots of ambition, and sexy as hell in a power suit. It had teased Pete, the way she’d pair a short, snug skirt, high heels, and red lipstick with a business jacket that begged to be unbuttoned. The attire emphasized rather than diminished her femaleness. Her glasses were a bonus. The way she pulled them off whenever she meant to get intimate had really turned him on.

“Coffee’s done.”

Speaking of turned on…Pete watched as Cassidy strode back into the room. No business suits, heels, or glasses for her, but unlike Dawn, Cassidy never bored him.

Her hair was pulled up into a high, sloppy knot, haphazardly clipped into place. Long, twining hanks of hair fell loose to her shoulders, around her small ears. She’d changed into a football jersey and cutoffs. A really big jersey—and really short shorts.

Being male, and healthy, and for some reason kind of horny on this almost-rainy, quiet Friday, Pete automatically gave her the once-over. Maybe there’d be a full moon tonight, or maybe the tide was high. Something, some unknown force, was making him contemplate Cassidy naked. Eyes narrowed and mouth pursed, he watched as she filled the mugs with coffee. He’d seen her in everything from sweats to bike shorts, so he knew she had lots of soft, squeezable curves to go with the muscles.

As if she felt his gaze, Cassidy looked over her shoulder, caught him staring at her butt, and looked away again. She didn’t care that he was looking. She didn’t care if he didn’t look.

Damn abnormal woman.

Driven by some inner perversity heretofore undeveloped, Pete leaned back against the doorframe and smiled. “Your ass looks nice in those shorts.”

A slight pause, then: “Thanks. You want a cookie with your coffee?”

His jaw locked.
Thanks? That was it? No more reaction than that?
Pete folded his arms over his chest. “How about I take your ass with my coffee?”

She threw a cookie at him, then dropped that delectable behind into a chair at the table with a hearty sigh. Using her toes, she snagged the chair opposite her and pulled it out enough so she could prop up her feet. “I’m so glad it’s the weekend. Thanks to that tank of a guy with low back pain, I’m beat.”

All week, Cassidy had worked with the man, who tipped the scales at three-fifty, on controlled, repetitive movement rehabilitation, teaching him safe movement through progression and complex exercises. That had been on top of her regulars who came in each day to work on running faster, farther. She’d been busy, no doubt about it.

Pete took his own seat. “I had an easier week. A bunch of junior high school boys working on sports conditioning. It was fun.”

“You’re good with kids.” She sipped her coffee. “You should work with them more.”

“Thanks. You know, I used to think about being a gym teacher.” Before his father passed away and his brother took over the family business and everything went sideways, including all their lives. He’d gotten off track then and hadn’t found his way back yet.

Cassidy nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that. You’re close to having the right credits, right? It wouldn’t take much to become a teacher, then you could—”

“Whoa. I didn’t say I was going to do it. Just that I used to think about it.”

“So what do you want to do? Work at the sports center the rest of your life?”

“I don’t know.” Damn it, why did she have to press him? “I’m happy there for now, so there’s no rush.”

Cassidy leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I envy you the ability to keep thinking things through. It seems like I made up my mind in my teens and I’ve been on the same road ever since.”

“You want to own a sports center someday, right?”

“A whole chain of them.” With her eyes still closed, her mouth curled in a self-deprecating smile. “I’ve had my entire life pictured in my mind forever. First, I’d graduate with honors—”

“Which you did.”

“—then learn my trade.”

“Working at the sports center.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “And sometime before I got too old, I’d marry a professional man. Some guy in a suit, like Ward Cleaver.” Her eyes opened. “You remember that show?
Leave It to Beaver?
Ward was always in a suit and June was always in a dress and their kids were polite, their house spotless. It seemed like the ideal setup to me. Only I don’t want to wear a dress. I want to run a business in my sweats.”

Used to her honesty, Pete toasted her with his coffee cup. “You look great in sweats.”

“Thanks. They suit me. You know, because I’m into comfort and all that.”

“I noticed.” Boy, had he noticed. Especially today. She was relaxed and easy to be with, totally natural. Very appealing.

“It makes my little sister crazy. She hates to be seen in public with me.”

“No way.”

Wearing a sideways grin, Cassidy admitted, “She considers me a fashion disaster. But then, you’d have to meet my sis to understand. She’s always perfectly groomed, manicured, and stylish.” Eyes averted, she added, “Sort of like the women you date.”

That had Pete frowning. It made him sound very superficial. “So you want a guy in a suit, huh?” Since he never got within ten feet of a suit, he didn’t much care for that inclination, either.

Cassidy propped her chin against her hand and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. As if picturing it in her mind, she said, “Tall, dark, and handsome, the kind of guy who looks great at black-tie events. Very serious. Dedicated to his job and his family.”